i tried to post about the al-qaeda training tapes - the ones with the dogs - a few days ago, but their recurrence on the news makes me so angry that i have little to say. telejournalists will never cease to disgust me.

this won't seem related, but it makes sense in my head.

When I got there the dead opossum looked likean enormous baby sleeping on the road.It took me only a few seconds - justseeing him there - with the hole in his backand the wind blowing through his hairto get back again into my animal sorrow.I am sick of the country, the bloodstainedbumpers, the stiff hairs sticking out of the grilles,the slimy highways, the heavy birdsrefusing to move;I am sick of the spirit of Lindbergh over everything,that joy in death, that philosophicalunderstanding of carnage, thatconcentration on the species.- I am going to be unappeased at the opossum's death.I am going to behave like a Jewand touch his face, and stare into his eyes,and pull him off the road.I am not going to stand in a wet ditchwith the Toyotas and the Chevies passing over meat sixty miles an hourand praise the beauty and the balanceand lose myself in the immortal lifestreamwhen my hands are still a little shakyfrom his stiffness and his bulkand my eyes are still weak and mistyfrom his round belly and his curved fingersand his black whiskers and his little dancing feet.